Interview With Dean Winchester
by Kady-SN
Summary: Written for SPNland LiveJournal comm, for a challenge. The title makes the summary self-explanatory...Dean is interviewed for a magazine. Set loosely at beginning of season five. Characters are Dean and one OC.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Interview with Dean Winchester

**Rating: **Pretty much G, except for one light curse word

**Characters: **Dean Winchester and one OC

**Spoilers: **none really, though it helps to have seen episode 5.01

**Summary: **Dean Winchester is interviewed

**Beta: **Suz Mc

**Word count: **Aprox. 1800

**Prompt:** _"Imagine you are a journalist, and you are to interview ONE Supernatural character. Come up with 5-7 questions to ask, then IN THAT CHARACTER'S VOICE, answer those questions."_

**Written for:** SPNland challenge

**Interview With Dean Winchester**

When I was offered the chance to interview Dean Winchester, I jumped at the chance. I mean, who wouldn't? The man is larger-than-life, and his life is more than interesting. I'm not sure I could handle having a life like his, but I'm not a Winchester either.

Having been warned ahead of time the interview would, by necessity, be a short one, I knew I wouldn't have the chance to ask him more than a handful of questions. I was also informed that there would be some questions I would either not be able to ask, or he would refuse outright to answer them. Ok, thanks for the warning, but I still planned to ask him some thought-provoking questions with the hopes he'd agree to answer them anyway. What happened went beyond this journalist's expectations.

He agreed to meet me in a local cafe, where we would talk over cups of coffee and servings of apple pie. That wouldn't be a hardship for either of us, I soon learned. After he saw me seated, he sat across from me, and once our coffee and pie was ordered, he looked at me, and I'm not embarrassed to admit it took me not a little bit of time to focus my thoughts on the matter at hand. The man is devastatingly handsome, and very charming to boot. When he smiled at me I could swear my brain melted, and for the life of me I couldn't remember my own name let alone remember any questions I'd planned to ask him. Thank God for the fact I had prepared a short list of them and had them with me, along with a small recorder to document the interview. Yep, I needed it too, because I didn't get more than a few words written down of what he said.

Yeah, I was a real professional that day.

Once our order was placed on the table in front of us, I watched as Dean took his first bite of pie, and I couldn't hold back a giggle. I mean, the man does love his pie. He grinned back at me and said, "Sorry. I've always said pie should be considered one of the basic food groups, along with coffee and beer."

I told him I agreed, then asked, "What else ranks up there with those basics of life, in your opinion?"

He tilted his head to the side and after a few moments, admitted, "Well, like any man, there are things I'd rather not have to do without. Food, we've already established, ranks up there. There's nothing like a big, greasy bacon cheeseburger first thing in the morning to start a man's day off right. I'm not listing things by priority, but I also have to say my baby - my car - ranks up there. Women." At that word he gave me what any woman worth her ovaries would consider a sexy grin. "Definitely women, and yeah, sex. Gotta make sure sex is on the list." He took another bite of pie and after he'd swallowed, he added, "Family. Friends. A job you love."

I told him, "I'd say you have a good list there. Other than women," I grinned at him, "I agree with you wholeheartedly." We shared a laugh, then we moved on to my next question. "In researching you, I learned what you do with your life. Traveling around the country, helping people, investigating the paranormal. Is that something you truly enjoy doing, or would you choose to do something else with your life if you could?"

Dean turned to look out the window we were sitting next to, and after a minute or so turned to look back at me and said, his voice deep and serious, "There have been a few times in my life - a few defining moments - when I considered what I'd be doing with my life if I weren't hunting. Don't get me wrong--I like what I do and the fact I get to do it with my brother, Sam--but yeah, if I had the chance to do something else, I'd give it a shot. I don't have plans to make a change like that, but the possibility is always there, isn't it?"

I agreed with him, and knew I had to ask my next question: "Do you see, at some time in your life, having a family?"

"A wife, kids, dog, the whole nine yards?" he asked. When I nodded, he blew out a breath and ran a hand over his stubbled face before adding, "Sure, I'd like that. What man doesn't? Will I get that for myself?" He made a scoffing sound in his throat. "I seriously doubt it. I don't think it's in the cards for me. The life Sam and I lead doesn't exactly allow for that, and really, the fact I'm alive right now is a major--I don't like the word 'miracle' but I'll use it in this case. I shouldn't be here."

I could see the subject made him uneasy, but I pressed on, needing to get inside this man's head as much as he would allow me. "I know what happened to you a year and a half ago--" meaning his deal to be sent to Hell, "--and some of what has happened since. Will you talk to me a little bit about that?"

"No. Sorry." His face took on what I would call a stubborn expression, but I had to press on.

"Dean--"

"Listen. It's not that I'm not willing to talk to you. I am. You're a nice woman and all, but that subject is hard to talk about. A lot of shit--sorry--a lot of stuff went down and all I want to do is put it behind me. If what you're looking for is a lot of sharing and emo crap, you're talking to the wrong Winchester."

"Sam wasn't the one I was assigned to talk to, not that I wouldn't have wanted to," I explained. I wanted to get inside his head, _needed_ to by this point, so I gave it one more try. "Dean, is there anything about that time you _are_ willing to talk about? I'm not trying to push you--_much_--but it is important to me, to this interview, to have you share with me what happened and how it's affected you, your life, your brother..."

He sighed, and I knew he really didn't want to respond to my request, but after a few minutes and more thinking on his part he faced me and said, "Hell was just that, _hell. _You have no idea what it's like, and I can't begin to describe it to you even if I wanted to. I got through it and that's that. Next question," he said, the tone of his voice making it perfectly clear that the subject of his time spent in Hell was irrevocably closed.

Not wanting to piss him off and take the chance of him ending the interview there and then, I sighed inwardly, and agreed to change the subject. I nodded and pushed my unfinished pie away, and after the waitress topped off our coffees, I asked, "Can you talk about how things are between you and your brother? I've read a lot about how close the two of you are, that you were almost a second father to him as the two of you grew up."

Little did I realize I had just brought up another touchy subject.

Dean gave me a frustrated glare, and I could see his jaw muscles clenching, so I was amazed when he took a deep breath, let it out, then crossed his arms in front of him on the table and looked me squarely in the eye. "I agreed to talk to you, and I will, but this is the last question I'll answer. The status of the relationship I have with my brother isn't up for discussion beyond this: yes, we are and have always been close, except for the years he was at Stanford. Just like most all siblings, we have our fights. There are good times and bad. The bad times're something I don't want to talk about. Period. Now if you were to ask about the practical jokes we've played on each other, or something else like that, I would have been happy to tell you all about it."

He leaned back in his seat and after draining his cup, began to slide out of the bench. I reached out and wrapped my hand around his wrist, stopping his exit. "Dean, I'm sorry," I said as I slid to the end of my seat. "I pushed too far, but I was just doing my job."

He hung his head a moment and sighed, then sank back down on his seat and met my gaze with his. "I know, but there're limits to what I'm willing to talk about. Like I said, maybe you're talking to the wrong brother."

I smiled and said, "Maybe. Maybe not. Thanks for sharing what you did." I thrust out a hand, and after a moment, he took it in one of his and gripped it firmly.

"You're welcome. I, uh, I need to go, but, yeah...all things considered, this was nice. Maybe we can try it again another time." He gave me another one of his heart-melting grins, and yeah, I admit I felt my ovaries explode.

I grinned back and after he helped me rise from my seat, he led me out the door. We walked side-by-side to the driver's-side door of his gleaming '67 Impala. He opened the door and the hinges gave a low, rumbled screech as he moved into the gap between door and seat. Dean paused there before he turned to face me and said, nodding, "Yeah...we ought to do this again sometime. We'll just leave work behind next time." He winked at me, then sat and pulled the door shut. He turned the ignition and the motor roared then settled into a steady purr as only a 'Pala can. He waved cheerily then pulled out, leaving dust in his wake, and I stood there and watched him drive off.

There were most definitely unprofessional feelings swarming inside me at that point. _I hope to get part two of this interview later...!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Interview with Sam Winchester

**Rating: **G

**Characters: **Sam Winchester and one OC

**Pairing:** none

**Spoilers: **It helps to have watched episodes from season 5

**Summary: **Sam Winchester is interviewed

**Beta: **Suz Mc

**Word count: **1837

**Prompt: **Dean was interviewed (the fic was written as a challenge for SPNland at LiveJournal.) This fic was written to go along with it, though not for SPNland.

**Interview with Sam Winchester**

After I had the pleasure of interviewing Dean Winchester, I felt the picture wouldn't be complete until or unless I could speak with his brother, Sam. I put in the request, not entirely sure it would be approved or accepted, so I was pleased when I got the word my interview with Sam was set for a couple days hence.

We agreed to meet at, of all places, the local library. From what I had previously learned of Sam, it shouldn't have surprised me. When I walked in, I saw him already sitting at a table off in one corner. When I approached him, he rose from his chair and, like his brother before him, made sure I was seated and comfortable before he sat down again. When I extended a hand, he took it within one of his large ones, engulfing it. I'd never felt particularly petite before, but next to his 6'4" muscular frame, I felt delicate and tiny. It was a strange sensation, and yet, I loved it!

He leaned forward and smiled at me before saying softly, "I'm not exactly sure what there is of interest to interview me about, but I'm here. I, uh, heard you spoke to my brother."

I met his gaze with my own, and what I'd heard about Sam was true. He had a decidedly adorable puppy dog look in his smoky-hazel eyes that was very disarming and sweet. "Yes, I did, last week. We didn't have the chance to discuss you much, though, which is another reason why I wanted to speak with you."

He grinned, bringing the adorable dimples in his cheeks into prominence. "It wouldn't surprise me if my brother made a move on you." I can imagine my facial expression gave him the answer he expected. He laughed. "That's my brother." I knew my face was red, and it only got worse when Sam asked, "Was he successful?"

I gave up all hope that the interview would be any more professional than the one I'd had with Dean. The Winchester men knew how to get to a woman, so I gave up and decided to roll with it. I grinned at Sam and said, my voice suddenly lower and huskier than it normally was, "I don't know. My interview with you isn't over with yet, is it?" God! I couldn't believe I'd just said that! I gave myself a silent smackdown, but when Sam threw his head back and gave a full-throated laugh, I knew I was toast.

After he'd composed himself, Sam shook his head and said, "I don't know, but I don't think being interviewed will be as bad as I thought it'd be."

I chuckled and after a halfway successful attempt to get my mind back on track, I opened my notebook and asked him, "Do you mind if I ask you some questions that Dean didn't want to answer?"

Sam didn't reply immediately. He scratched the side of his note absently then said, "Like what?"

I didn't want to take the chance he'd clam up like Dean had, but I also hoped he'd be a little more open. "Can you talk a little bit about the relationship you have with Dean? I know you're close--"

He leaned back in his chair, his long legs straight out and ankles crossed. He began to tap rhythmically against the leg of the table with the side of one of his boots. "Yeah, we're close. We pretty much have been all our lives. Dean's been more of a father to me than our dad was. Dean's four years older than I am, and from the age of eight or so, he often had care of me when our dad was out of town."

"Your mom--"

"--died when I was a baby. It hit dad hard, and he wasn't around a lot, so yeah, Dean had to grow up fast, y'know? He complains a lot about always having to look out for his pain-in-the-ass little brother, but I don't think he'd have it any other way." Sam smiled a moment then it faded into a blend of remorse and resignation. "I'm not so sure he still feels that way."

"How is that?" I asked, my voice soft and filled with concern. I knew what I'd heard about the brothers, that there had been a crack in their closeness, but I wanted to hear about it from Sam's point of view. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"Dean wouldn't talk about it with you, would he?" Sam asked. When I shook my head, he shrugged and said, "He wouldn't. He doesn't like to discuss it with me, either." He pushed a fringe of hair that had been flirting with his eyelashes back from his face, and for a moment, he wouldn't look at me. I waited patiently, until he sighed and continued.

"I won't go into details, ok? But a lot has happened the last year or so, and he and I have made some wrong decisions that have had some life-altering results, not just between us but for others as well. We have issues with each other and it created a...well...a rift between us. We just need time to work through it. We've started, but, well...it'll take time."

I nodded, and noting how uncomfortable the subject made him, I moved on to another question. "I know about what the two of you do: traveling around the country, helping people and investigating the paranormal--"

"--along with other stuff," Sam finished. "It's something we've done all our lives, well, except the time I was in college, but yeah, we've considered it our family business."

I leaned my chin on my clasped hands, my elbows in front of me on the table. "Is it something you plan to continue doing from now on, or do you see yourself stopping at some point, and maybe settling down with a family?"

"You asked Dean that question, didn't you?" Sam asked, shifting position in his chair. He leaned forward, and like me, rested his weight on his arms.

I nodded.

"Did he answer?"

"Yes. That's why I wanted to get your response. Do you see a family in your future, Sam?"

He was silent a few moments, and then sighed and said, his voice low, "I honestly don't know. Do I want a family of my own? Yes, very much so. I'd made plans to get married back when I was at Stanford. I was about to get engaged--" here his voice grew husky and I noted how his eyes started to glisten with emotion. "--but things happened and plans got changed. I'm not the same man I was back then and what I want for my life doesn't matter compared to what others need. The needs of the many over the wants of the one, and all that. I don't know what my life will bring. There's so much going on, and...and I can't make plans."

He sighed and turned his head to look away. I studied his profile—the sharp angles of his jawline, the way the tip of his nose came to a rounded point, and the mole decorating the upper curve of his left cheek at the side of his nose. I wanted to reach out and cover his hands with mine, but I sensed the gesture wouldn't be welcomed. Instead, I sat there and gave him time to gather himself, and when he'd done so, he looked at me and gave me a gentle smile.

"Sorry. Dean hates what he calls 'chick-flick' moments. I'm beginning to see his side of it."

I grinned back and allowed the charged moment to fade away. I commented, "Dean mentioned something about practical jokes the two of you have played on one another. Care to share one or two of them?"

Sam chuckled and leaned back in his chair once more. "Oh, we've definitely come up with a few good ones over the years."

"Like what?"

"Well, let's see. Once I hid a dead fish in his car and it took three days for Dean to find it. I've used a stink bomb a time or two to gas the car as well. Once, I super-glued his beer bottle, and when he picked it up, it stuck to his hand."

"You didn't!" I gaped at him.

"I did. It was actually one of my better pranks." He grinned and chuckled softly. "Oh, but he's gotten me back, sometimes not on purpose, but the result was just the same."

"What happened?" I asked, completely engrossed.

"Well, I learned not to leave him alone with my computer. We share my laptop when we use it for research, but there's been more than once I've returned from one errand or another to find he'd frozen my computer on, well..."

"On what, Sam?"

He hesitated a moment, then said, his cheeks flushing slightly, "...on porn sites. He has a favorite one."

I leaned back in my seat and giggled until tears streamed down my face. "Oh, God...what else?"

Sam joined me in laughing about it as he regaled me with a few more recollections of gags, (unprintable unfortunately) that Dean had managed to inflict on Sam.

I have siblings. I took notes.

Just as I was going to ask him another question, his cell phone vibrated. Excusing himself, he checked the view screen and seeing that it was a call he needed to take, answered the call. I tried not to listen in, but I overheard just enough to catch the name of the caller. Apparently, it was his good friend, and from all accounts, his father-figure, Bobby Singer.

The call didn't last long, and when he'd ended it and placed the phone back on the table, Sam looked at me, his face a study in regret. "I'm sorry, but I need to leave. I'm willing to continue this another time, if you want."

I did want, and told him so.

"Great! I'll call you when I get free, ok?" Sam asked and when I agreed, we exchanged contact information. When we rose from out seats, Sam assisted me up with a hand at my elbow. I have to admit I was impressed with the gentlemanly manners both showed me. He walked with me out to my car, and when he opened my door for me, I couldn't resist commenting to him how mannerly he was. He grinned and said, "Thank my dad and Dean for that. I was raised to honor women and show them the respect they deserve. It's habit for me, but an easy one."

We said our goodbyes then Sam got into his car and, giving me a final wave, drove off. I stood and watched, and I realized how much I had come to like these men, the Winchester brothers. I hope I have a chance to spend more time in their company. I'd consider myself a fortunate woman.


End file.
